


To Each Their Own

by topshelf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry!Mercy, F/F, Hate Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topshelf/pseuds/topshelf
Summary: Angela catches Moira using her laboratory for unsanctioned experiments. Things get a little out of hand when she goes to confront her.





	To Each Their Own

Angela Ziegler stomped up to the door to Dr. O’Deorian’s lab, her mind buzzing with anger. She paused a moment to collect herself before knocking curtly, rapping three short beats on the metal plating. “Just a moment,” came Moira’s voice from inside, followed by the muffled rattling of various equipment. Angela took a step back and folded her arms tightly across her chest, her hand still gripping the paper that sparked her to come all the way down to the dark, unwelcoming basement. 

The door opened slightly and the upper half of Moira O’Deorian leaned out, her long fingers curling around the frame, sharp nails clicking against the metal. “Yes, Dr. Ziegler?” she said cooly, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Angela glared back at her, annoyed in her own right.

“That’s all you have to say?” Angela snapped, unfolding her arms and thrusting the paper in Moira’s direction. Moira glanced down at it, then back at Angela without moving. Angela waved it at her again, the paper crinkling sharply in the quiet hallway. “Dr. O’Deorian.”

“Dr. Zeigler, I don’t have time for this,” Moira said, leaning back into her lab. Angela shot an arm out and Moira just barely stopped herself from slamming the door onto Angela’s wrist. Angela wedged the door open more and Moira reluctantly stepped aside to allow the doctor into the room. 

Angela marched into the middle of the room and looked around, eyes narrowing as she took stock of Moira’s lab. Her main workstation was covered in glassware and bottles of solutions, her bioscanner beeping softly as it ran a scan over a piece of organic material that Angela could not (and did not want to) identify. Displays flashed with real-time analysis and classical music floated from Moira’s computer in the back of the room. Angela turned sharply to face Moira, who had folded her own arms across her chest. “All this,” she said, gesturing around the room. “All this, and you _still_ use my equipment.”

Moira laughed, a low laugh that rang in Angela’s ears. “Is that what you’re mad about? I used your toys?” 

“You are using my equipment for your insane experiments!” Angela nearly shouted, waving the paper in Moira’s direction. “Thousands of dollars of genetic material, off-label usage of chemical agents, unsanctioned use of machines -- _my_ machines. Not to mention the huge breach of protocol even if you were in my department!” Angela made eye contact with Moira, who stared back at her, stone-faced and entirely unapologetic. Angela huffed and felt her face reddening with anger. 

“I am trying to run a laboratory,” Angela said, defensive and frustrated. “A real, ethical, scientific laboratory. For the good of the people. For Overwatch. Not for you, not for your mad scientist playtime. Not for this,” she gestured around, referring to Blackwatch. She paused, garnering the courage for a threat she didn’t want to have to make. She waved the paper in her hand one more time. “I don’t want to have to turn these equipment logs into Overwatch--”

Moira narrowed her eyes and interrupted Angela’s threat. “Ethical? For the people? Is that what you call what you did to Shimada?” Angela tensed; Moira noticed this defensive posture and took a few steps forward, placing her imposing height directly in Angela’s view. “You float around over there, claiming the moral high ground, always playing the saint.” She stepped forward again, and Angela instinctively took a step back. “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us. A selfless, perfect professional who does everything by the book.” 

Moira was very close to Angela now, towering over the blonde, anger simmering in her own heterochromatic eyes. Angela glared back at her; she was not ready to back down, but she had always been slightly afraid of the geneticist, of whom she was fairly certain could throttle Angela without a second thought. 

“You pull people from death, Dr. Zeigler,” Moira continued. “You don’t ask if they want that. You didn’t ask Shimada if he wanted that. You’re no guardian angel. You’re just a necromancer.” Angela scoffed and opened her mouth to retort, but Moira stepped forward again and continued, acid in her voice. “I am working towards an extraordinary future. I am uncovering the secrets you’re too afraid to look into. You’re playing doctor, pretending that the advancements that people like me are willing to develop don’t benefit you. You need me, Dr. Zeigler. You’d be nothing without me. Remember that next time you try to blackmail me.” 

Angela stared up at Moira, incensed. “I don’t need you,” she spat. “I am twice the scientist you’ll ever be -- science isn’t just about bending the world to your will. It’s about embracing the natural world for everyone’s benefit.”

Moira laughed again, her dark chuckle mixing ominously with the minor key of the music that still played in the background. “So naive, Dr. Zeigler,” she chided. 

Angela, nearly shaking with anger, took a step forward and planted a moderate shove squarely on Moira’s chest. Moira stumbled slightly, taken off guard by the sudden aggressiveness of the famously pacifist doctor. “What’s gotten into you, _Frau Doktor_?” Moira teased. 

Angela lifted her arms to shove her again, but Moira caught her wrists in midair and clutched them tightly in her strong hands. Moira’s nails dug into Angela’s skin and she let out a small hiss of pain, which drew a menacing smile onto Moira’s lips. Angela couldn't remember the last time she’d been this angry. “Fuck you,” she growled.

Moira’s smile transformed into a smirk and she squeezed Angela’s wrists tighter. “You said last time wasn’t going to happen again.”

Angela flushed. A few weeks ago, Moira had stopped by the med bay and struck up a conversation with Angela during the early morning hours of her overnight shift. Moira smelled faintly of whisky and Angela should’ve known better than to flirt with her, but it had been a long and mostly boring shift thus far and Moira was nothing if not interesting. She’d found herself entranced by the woman, attracted to her angular features and towering height. They’d ended up making out in Angela’s office, only stopped by an emergency code called over the PA. When Moira caught up with Angela in the hallway a few days later, Angela was hit with waves of regret and sternly told Moira that it would be better if the two forgot about their “lapse in better judgement.” They hadn’t seen much of each other since then, though Angela found herself daydreaming of Moira’s hands every once in a while.

Here, in Moira’s lab, enraged by the geneticist’s lack of ethics and haughty attitude, Angela was not taking kindly to condescension from Moira. Being quicker and stronger than most gave her credit for, Angela wriggled her hands free from Moira’s grasp and advanced on her, pushing her back against her workstation. Moira was taken aback by this abrupt action, having underestimated Angela’s capabilities. “What are you--”

“Shut up,” Angela interrupted, grabbing Moira’s tie and yanking her down to eye level. Angela’s mind was a simmering mess of emotion, of anger and arousal and frustration. Moira was insufferable, patronizing, arrogant, and -- _fuck_ , beautiful. Angela wanted nothing more to shut Moira up, to remind her that there was a reason she was one of the most respected members of Overwatch. To punish her for breaking the rules, to wipe that cavalier smirk off her face. Angela tightened her grip on Moira’s tie and kissed her, roughly and hungrily.

Moira kissed back and made a move to push forward and take control of the kiss, but Angela used her other hand to grip at the longest parts of Moira’s red hair, yanking hard. Moira uttered a small yelp, somewhere halfway between a cry of pain and a moan of pleasure. Angela let go of her tie and tightened the grip on her hair, now steering her back towards an upholstered chair just beside the workstation. Angela pushed Moira down onto it and straddled her, this orientation finally giving her a height advantage. She angled Moira’s head towards her and glared down at the woman, who stared back with a mixed look of confusion and arousal. 

Angela let go of Moira’s hair and kissed her again, harsh and intently. She channeled all the superiority she could muster into the kiss, hoping to bruise her intentions into Moira’s lips. Moira placed her hands on Angela’s hips, nails digging slightly into Angela’s skirt. Angela reached down between Moira’s legs and slid two fingers along her groin, eliciting a small moan from Moira into Angela’s mouth.

Angela pressed her fingers harder against the fabric of Moira’s slacks, applying pressure right to the friction points between Moira’s pants and her crotch. Moira shifted beneath Angela, bucking her hips to meet Angela’s hand in a silent beg for more contact. Angela leaned back from the kiss and undid Moira’s pants, slipping her fingers beneath the fabric of her underwear and grazing lightly on Moira’s pussy. She was wet and easily accepted two of Angela’s fingers immediately. 

Angela looked down at Moira and savored what she saw, a woman totally at her mercy. Moira’s lips were swollen and parted, her normally prim hair disheveled and flopped over her forehead. Her pupils were dilated, eyes staring half-lidded back at Angela, urging her to go deeper.  


Slowly, Angela slipped her fingers deeper into Moira and crooked them. She didn’t have the best angle, but it was enough to make Moira’s eyes flutter shut and pull a strained moan from her throat. Angela thrusted her fingers and rubbed Moira’s clit with her thumb in the process, inadvertently fucking Moira in time with the swell of the classical music still playing around them. 

The music built and Angela thrust faster, earning moans of increasing intensity from Moira until she felt Moira begin to tense around her, orgasm crescendoing--

Abruptly, Angela pulled out of Moira. The other woman’s eyes shot open with a grunt and she stared up at Angela, breath heavy. Her face was flushed and hairline sweaty. “What are you--”

“Don’t let me catch you in my lab again,” Angela ordered, dismounting. She grabbed a cloth from Moira’s workstation and wiped her hands, maintaining eye contact with the still-buzzing Moira. She dropped the dirty cloth onto her lap and began to walk towards the door. With one hand on the handle, Angela looked back at Moira, who was staring at her in a mixture of disbelief and -- dare Angela say it -- pride. 

Angela opened the door and left, wondering if she should even bother to change the access codes.

**Author's Note:**

> Mercy's just mad she got nerfed.


End file.
